Roar!
by Dana Keylits
Summary: An anon reviewer told me I used the word 'roar' too much. So, I wrote this. Inspired by the events in 7x03, Clear and Present Danger. I own nothing, but I'd love to open up the genius mind of AWM and have a looksee. Spoilers for 7X03.


**Roar!  
><strong>By Dana Keylits

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><p><strong>AN: **_I had an anon reviewer who took exception to my evidently oft repeated use of the word 'roar'. It was fine, they weren't icky about it, and to each their own opinion. But, it did inspire me to write this. I'm pretty sure Anon will hate it. I hope the rest of you enjoy. :-)_

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><p>It had been weeks. It had been too many weeks. It had been so many weeks that every time he caught a waft of her scent, or a glimpse of her flesh, or a taste of her salty-sweet lips he felt like a sweaty-palmed stupefied adolescent, fantasizing about the girl next door. Or, as had been the case for <em>thirteen<em>-_year_ _old_ Richard Castle, the twenty-something _tutor_ his mother had hired after she'd landed a plumb role in the touring production of _A Chorus Line._

Like then, these days he often found his mind wandering to salacious places, to memories – fantasies- of being with Kate, of touching her flawless alabaster skin, his hands foraging a path from top to toe, and then back again, tracing every deliciously naked curve and hollow, endless line, the sharp edges that led to softer ones, and especially that spot low on her back where her skin rearranged itself into two perfectly round dimples. He loved that spot. He _worshiped_ it, often giving it disproportional attention, and usually, with just his _tongue_.

He felt a familiar pang in his belly as he thought about it, about her, about _them_. As he watched her while she sat at her desk, poring over police documents, jotting down an occasional note in her six-by-nine narrow-lined steno pad. He thought about how her hair would blaze when the sun hit it in just the right spot, accentuating its reddish highlights, giving her an almost halo-effect. He could see the rise of her collarbones beneath the thin charcoal grey sweater that seemed made of fabric that loved her body almost as much as he did; the hollow of her neck where, whenever they were particularly furious in their lovemaking, delicate rivers of sweat would trickle and pool. He studied her face as she raised her head to answer a question that had been posed by someone out of Castle's sight-line, the imperfect swell of her lips that _seemed_ perfect, but were slightly A-symmetrical, revealing a row of orthodontically enhanced white teeth.

And her tongue peeking out, her roving delicious, curious tongue that had _known_ him, had tasted him, had explored him.

He was working himself into quite a state, so when she turned towards him, a waiting expression on her face, he could only stare at her vacantly.

"Castle? Did you hear me?" She'd asked, vertical lines converging at the space between her eyes.

No, he hadn't heard her, he'd had no idea what she'd been on about. He'd been too busy thinking about all of the ways her tongue had ravaged him, all of the times her lips, her breath, her kiss, had made him _roar._ All of the times, times that seemed so long ago now, that parts of him had been in parts of her, the times their bodies had been tangled and sweaty together, their breath nearly escaping them as their bodies had moved in perfect rhythm towards a precipice of pure ecstasy.

"Castle!" She roared. "Hello? Where are you?" She snapped her fingers in front of his face.

He was lost, caught between his fantasies, his _memories, _and his current study of her. He felt his eyes glass over, his mind drift, his palms grow sweaty, his insides flutter like a score of butterflies had just taken flight. He remembered the weight of her as she lay on top of him, coated in sweat, breathless, satisfied, her fingernails tracing haphazard patterns into the bare skin of his chest as her lips had peppered him with the softest of kisses.

He shifted in his chair, his lips slightly parted as he stared at her through hooded eyes. It had been way too long since they'd been together, since they'd been together in that _knowing_ way. At first it had been days, but then days had turned to weeks, which had turned to months, and it didn't seem like an easy thing to just _do._ But, he could abide it no longer. His body craved hers like his lungs craved oxygen and he needed for _them_ to be _them_ again.

He could hear the squeak of her chair as she rolled towards him, could feel the spark that rippled from his knee where she'd gently placed her hand. "Castle?" she'd whispered. "Are you okay?"

No. He wasn't okay. He wasn't even _close_ to okay.

He _needed_ her.

He blinked, trying to clear the haze from his mind, then turned his head to look at her, her striking but concerned looking face coming slowly into focus. "Kate," he whispered, his expression troubled. "Kate."

She reached for his hand, swallowing it between hers, true concern etched into the delicate lines of her face. "Castle, what is it?" She frowned, her voice tinged with alarm. "What's wrong?"

He leaned forward, his eyes locked on hers and he noticed that she'd unwittingly parroted his movements, leaning so close that all he'd had to do was tilt his head and he could kiss her. "Beckett," he muttered, his voice a horse whisper. "I _need_ you."

"What?" she asked, her anxious gaze shifting quickly back and forth from his left eye to his right. "What do you need?"

He wanted it to be a declaration, he wanted it to be a _roar_, but instead, whimpering, his voice almost inaudible, he answered, "_You_."

She stared at him for a beat, her expression blank, and then, slowly, gradually, he could see realization flutter across her face, and she leaned back slightly, her smile lighting as slowly as a fuse, his name a half-expressed ghost on her lips, "_Cas-"_

She looked around the room, evidently satisfied that no one was within earshot, before lowering her head and gazing at him from the long fan of lashes that framed her eyes. "Castle," she started again, her voice husky. "I need _you_, too."

His smile started at the corners of his eyes, his bright, clear, baby blue eyes, and then tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You _do_?"

Her lips barely moved as she hissed, "_Yessss_," her unwavering gaze lighting into him.

He closed his eyes and exhaled, the tension uncoiling from his stomach, and when he looked at her again, she had a fire in her eye that went straight to his insides. "Kate. We. Ah," he stumbled over his words until she took his hand in hers and stood up. "C'mon," she whispered, pushing her battered task chair into her desk as he stood up beside her, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Espo!" she barked, and the detective's head shot up, a quizzical expression on his face.

"I'm not feeling well. Castle's taking me home."

"I am?" he whispered, feeling inexplicably nervous.

"You _are_." She replied, talking from the side of her mouth as she shut down her computer and grabbed her bag. "Let's go."

He'd barely had a chance to snatch his jacket from the back of the chair, Kate was in such a hurry to get out of there.

Arriving at their place, Kate parked the car and they rushed into the lobby, unusually empty for two o'clock on a Tuesday, and stood in front of the elevator in anticipatory silence as they willed the doors open. Once inside, the elevator having barely begun its ascent to their floor, she'd pinned him against the wall, her hips grinding into him, her lips a bruising kiss against his mouth, her hands, well, her hands roaming _everywhere_.

And, veining his arms around her, his hands _remembering_ her, he _roared_.

**The End.**

**A/N:** _This is obviously a slightly AU version of Clear and Present Danger, but not really. It's more of a drabble inspired by that episode. Either way, I hope y'all liked it. Thanks for reading. :-) -dk_


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